What heavenly thing then must the Master be,
Whose Servants are divine?
[Enter Page running.
Page. Oh, Madam! all the Heroick Boys are up in Arms, and swear they’ll have your Highness, dead or alive,—they have besieg’d the House.
L. Lam. Heav’ns, the Rabble!—those faithless things that us’d to croud my Coach’s Wheels, and stop my Passage, with their officious Noise and Adoration.
Enter Freeman.
Free. Loveless, thy Aid; the City-Sparks are up;
Their zealous Loyalty admits no Bounds.
A glorious Change is coming, and I’ll appear now barefac’d.
Lov. Madam, fear not the Rabble; retire. Freeman and I can still ’em. Leads her in, and bows low.